


The sole of wit

by 20thcenturyvole



Category: Boston Legal
Genre: Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20thcenturyvole/pseuds/20thcenturyvole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Denny,” Alan says flatly, “Did you decide to go noodling in the one state where it’s illegal?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sole of wit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [debirlfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/debirlfan/gifts).



Against Alan’s better judgement – it’s always against Alan’s better judgement, which is appalling, because anyone could tell you that Alan’s judgement is bad to begin with – he agreed to let Denny surprise him for this vacation, and call all the shots. It’s an anniversary getaway of sorts, and Alan got to pick last year, so it’s only fair.

This is why Alan is currently hip-deep in a river in Kansas on a scorching sunny day, clinging grimly to a tree-root against the current and watching Denny attempt to finger a trout.

“ _Noodling_ , Alan, it’s called noodling,” Denny insists, sticking his hand under a submerged rock and presumably wiggling his fingers in a manner meant to drive trout wild with desire. Or something.

Alan feels something drift past his leg and wobbles precariously in the riverbed. “I thought that was for catching catfish,” he tries. He expected fishing from this vacation. In some ways, Denny has made him really appreciate fishing, or at least appreciate fine sunny days doing very little, followed by a meal of freshly-caught fish that someone else has prepared. He did not expect Denny to leave the rods at the hotel, though.

“Well, noodling, tickling, graveling, catfisting—“

“ _Cat fisting_?”

“—it’s all the same thing, really,” Denny says brightly. “And I’ve always wanted to try it!”

“It seems like a good way to lose fingers,” Alan says. “How do you know you’re going to get a trout and not, I don’t know, a snapping turtle?”

“Nonsense, you sound just like the government. An element of danger just adds to the fun!”

The government. “Denny,” Alan says flatly, “Did you decide to go noodling in the one state where it’s illegal?”

Denny dismissively flaps the hand that isn’t currently under a rock. “Oh, no, no,” he insists. Alan breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s actually illegal in thirty-nine states. Including this one! Just think, if we’re caught we can make a case against it!”

“I believe we told Shirley we’d try _not_ to get arrested this time around.”

“What Shirley doesn’t know can’t get in the way of our fun,” Denny says pragmatically. “Besides, last time was a good night, wasn’t it?”

Alan tilts his head and is forced to concede. “Up until the point that Shirley showed up to bail us out, yes.” That part had put a little damper on things, at least. She didn’t even bother to get angry these days; she just looked deeply disappointed and told them that they were far too old for this. He wasn’t sure whether she’d meant the arrest, or what they were wearing at the time of the arrest, but either way Alan takes great offence to the idea that he is too old for _anything_.

Denny snaps his fingers. “What was the name of that Mexican gangbanger fellow?”

“His name was Vicente, he was originally from Brazil, and he was picked up for refusing to submit to a breathalyzer,” Alan says calmly. He thinks the current might be gradually shifting his feet out from under him, but he’s not going to give it the satisfaction of panicking.

“That’s right!” Denny exclaims. “How did that go in the end, by the way?”

Alan shrugs, gingerly shuffling his feet forward through the pebbles and mud. “Given that his urine sample came back clean, and the secretary on duty admitted that the arresting officer had a history of citations for racial profiling, they eventually dropped all charges after his wife bailed him out.”

“Lovely filly,” Denny rumbles, with a distant look on his face.

“Yes she was,” Alan agrees fondly.

“But anyway, I still say that was the liveliest game of poker I’ve played in years! Even if we were playing for bottle caps.” Denny tries awkwardly to stretch his back without taking his arm out of the water. Alan thinks this might be one of those vacations that by necessity ends at a spa. “That officer on duty had quite the collection. What a bizarre thing to make a hobby of!”

“Says the man trying to catch a fish barehanded,” says Alan. “Honestly, Officer Grant seemed like a rather lonely man. I can’t imagine the graveyard shift of a backcountry lockup in Springfield is typically an exciting job. We were probably the most entertainment he’d had in a while.” Aha – he thinks he’s found a solid place to put his feet – there’s a little rock ridge at his heels that ought to stop him sliding around so much. Or is that a branch of some sort? “Absolute card shark, though.”

“Complete demon!” Denny agrees. “Practically robbed us blind. Still,” he looks at Alan with a twinkle in his eye, “An excellent night.”

Alan shrugs easily. It is, he will admit, a fond memory. “Still, Denny, how many judges in Kansas do you know that owe you favours?”

“Not... _quite_ as many as in Massachusetts,” Denny concedes.

“Also, it would take Shirley a very long time to bail us out,” Alan points out.

“I’m sure we’d figure something out,” Denny says easily.

“Well, I’m sure it’s a moot point,” Alan says, eyes scanning the far bank. “I haven’t seen a state trooper yet, so unless one turns up in the next hour or so, I’m sure we can escape arrest just this once.”

Just then, Denny gasps. “I think I’ve got something.”

“Really?” Alan turns his head sharply to see Denny bent sideways, half-submerged, an excited expression on his face. “That was fast.”

“I’m very wily,” Denny says. “Grab the net, Alan, I think I have a nibble. Quickly, quickly!” Alan obediently scrambles for the net, which is an interesting experience since it involves letting go of his tree root and attempting to maintain a solid stance in hip-deep rapids. “Aha, yes, I think I have it, hang on – oh no...”

His free hand flails, and Alan grabs for it in an attempt to keep him from slipping in entirely under the water, only to realise that the pressure at his heels was a branch after all and it’s giving way. Denny seems to realise the same thing at the same moment, his face precariously close to the waterline. As Alan’s finger’s clench around his, he frowns hard, gives a cry of “Hyah!” and heaves his arm out of the water.

The trout, spotted and sparkling, flies from his fingers in a wriggling arc, and Alan has a moment to be truly astonished that Denny managed to catch it with his bare hands before the fish flips in midair and smacks him square in the face.

END


End file.
